


A Waste

by SolarFly



Category: Flight Rising
Genre: A kinda morbid crown too, Anger, Angst, Exploring character relationships, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, I just wanted to write a conversation tbh, I'm not lying when I say it's mostly talking, Lore - Freeform, Memories, My first time posting on AO3 so please don't mind my terrible tagging, Regret, Suggested past abuse/problems during childhood, Unfulfilled desire for revenge, brief mention of death, mostly just talking, short piece, sorta fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-25 01:11:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14965877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolarFly/pseuds/SolarFly
Summary: Scree returns to her birth clan to reclaim her birthright and enact her revenge, only to discover that a great deal has happened while she was away. Prime comforts her.(A short piece to develop a couple of characters and reveal a little bit of Scree's backstory.)





	A Waste

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time posting on AO3 so please forgive my inability to format and tag. Constructive criticism is always welcome, but please remain polite.
> 
> I'm in the middle of exams and needed to get the urge to write out of my system so I could focus, so I wrote a conversation between two of my favourite dragons in my clan.

Over everything else, it was a waste. The reaching fields of her home, pockmarked and crawling with living plague, had never been pretty, but it had had held a certain, nostalgic tint of rose in Scree’s mind, and she had even heard visiting denizens of the Gladekeeper’s lands compliment the view of the sunset. The Contagion had supported her birth clan, worthy of being called a kingdom, for generations. It had never been kind, but through its lacking mercy it had gifted them strength.

It was hard to believe that the castle she perched on now, broken and crumbling, was the same place she had called home so many years ago; the legacy of centuries, ruined; its people, already dust.

The crown in her claws felt lighter than she remembered, though when Scree had held it last, she had less than half her size, and more than two thirds her age. The relic of a future she had been denied was laughably brittle: The bones of the clan’s founders were hollow, and old, but when her grandfather had worn it, the crown had looked as strong as stone. She supposed there was a reason he had been so respected or, more likely, feared. Plaguemother knew that for all she had loved him, the thought of crossing him had been one she was never willing to entertain.

The temptation was there, to snap the crown, and watch it crumble into dust, to join the fate of its final bearer. That the territory was in such dire disrepair felt like his final, mocking blow before her cousin had succumbed to his current, less-than-living state. She had spent so many years in unnecessary fear, woken by flickering shadows in the night to wonder if they had finally found her, and she would have to run again. It was already an insult to have her revenge, after so long dreaming of blood and victory, cruelly denied. Compounded with the knowledge that she could have returned safely long ago, that her nightmares could have ended with just a few words of the news… Scree regretted not racing back the moment she had her strength, to make sure her claws were the ones to stop her traitorous cousin’s poisoned heart.

“I have to confess, I am relieved. I still have the scars from fighting your cousin’s assassins.” Scree’s wings twitched outwards in surprise as a large shadow loomed behind her, but the familiar rumble of her mate stilled their attempt to unfold. Her gaze turned upwards to greet the opal-scarred Guardian, but soon fled back to the razed expanses. Prime watched her quietly for a moment, the chuckle at his own comment dead in his chest from a mere taste of the melancholy mood of his small mate. Rather than pressing another attempt to brighten his charge, he instead lay down to rest his head beside her on the unsteady edge of the castle tower.

“I would have liked to repay them for the harm they did to you.” Scree’s tail flicked back and forth as yet another regret was surfaced; though she had only fleeting memories of the wounds inflicted on her mate, before they had even known each other as friends, the scars he had earned protecting her still burned her pride.

“If they owe me a debt, they owe you their entire hoard.” It was an understatement, but one that brought a smile to Scree’s face.

“A kingdom, dear. They owe me a kingdom.” She corrected with a playful smirk – an expression that brought great relief to her worrying mate – and an emphatic glance to the crown resting in her claws.

“I would be reluctant to call the matter settled until they handed you the whole of Sornieth.” Prime didn’t miss the ambitious twinkle that filled Scree’s eyes at the thought of taking the world, but her content with their current life saw it fade before the Mirror could rekindle the power-lust she had once suffered in her youth.

“I pity the dragon foolish enough to take a loan from you.” The pair shared a brief laugh that quickly faded into the morose silence smothering the wastes. Scree looked back down at the bleached crown in her grasp, stained red at the edges by the residue of her cousin’s long-finished decay. The disappointment stung deep behind the frustration and anger, burrowing deeper with every moment as the adrenaline’s grip slowly slackened.

“I had hoped that I could take it all back. I spent my whole life training, and now everything that I learned is useless.” Scree sighed. Her wings hung low, as if the weight in her heart were pulling at the edges.

“Perhaps. I’m sure you don’t need to know the clan’s laws by rote, now… But I think there’s plenty that still comes in handy.” Prime turned his head better towards his mate, to fix their gazes together. “You remain a great leader, even if it is not of the clan you were born to rule.”

“A small pack is hardly comparable.” Scree protested, but her tone was weak, betraying her pride over her elite strike team. “I still would have liked the choice…” Prime would have missed her murmur, had the world around them not been so deathly quiet.

“If the clan had still lived, you wouldn’t have had one.” Scree’s first instinct was to argue; Prime read it easily from the defensive flare of her wings, but a simple look was all it took to calm the brewing storm of ire and encourage Scree to think. It was a bittersweet freedom, and hard to swallow with the years of being promised a throne replaying in her head.

“We could stay, if that’s what you want. It would take work, but we could rebuild.” Prime offered, shaking Scree from her thoughts. Her eyes cast over the ruined fields again, then down to the collapsing stone under her feet. A pang of homesickness hit, hard, recalling the years of joy within the castle’s walls… Memories she knew to be tainted by want of fewer nightmares and denial of the dread she had long-ago learned to twist into ambition. There was the knowledge, too, that if they did rebuild, they could do better: She had learned much about true leadership in the happy years out of her grandfather’s shadow.

Scree shook her head, and set the crown down on the cracked stone wall.

“It would be a waste of time; my claim to the throne is as dead as the rest of this place.” Scree looked up towards her mate, who met her with an expression filled with pride. “Besides,” she grinned, “I have everything I need already.”

“So do I.” Prime agreed. They were small words, but they felt as mighty as the blue-winged Guardian who spoke them in her heart.

Scree turned towards the edge of the tower again, this time aimed towards the sky, but she was forced to pause as her mate’s paw crossed her path to collect the ageing crown.

“If it helps,” Scree stared up at him in confusion as he turned the comparatively-tiny crown in his onyx claws, “You will always be royalty to me.” His tone was softer than distant thunder falling from a cleansing storm as he gently placed the crown onto Scree’s baffled head. The pale mirror paused her waiting response as her mate adjusted the gruesome adornment, while the membranes of her wings flushed an even deeper red than normal from the flustering flattery.

“You just want to be a king.” She accused as Prime withdrew his claws, earning her a rumbling chuckle that shook free several stones from the castle’s loose crenulations.

“Well, I do like the title.” The vividly red Guardian agreed as he stood, and stretched out his wings in preparation for the long flight south that stood ahead of them. “However, I don’t think I have the personality for it.”

“Oh, really?” Scree gave her wings an experimental flap, to drive away the aches of too long sitting still. The joints protested loudly at the abrupt motion with a resounding crack; a reminder of the extra years of flying between her and when she had last taken to the sky from these towers.

“Yes, I’m not spoiled.” Before his tease could reach Scree’s ears, Prime had launched into the air, knowing that Scree would have to wait a moment before she followed as the mighty gust from his wings threatened to flatten her. He was chased by an indignant screech, but his pace remained lazy and confident. He, unlike others, had the privilege of being spared the worst of Scree’s ego-fuelled temper.

The claws that kicked his side moments later when his swift mate caught up to him held little force and left behind no sting, but the air around Prime was not spared from his charge’s grumbling. It ended quickly however… More so than normal, which was enough to prompt Prime to turn his head and search for his mate in her usual spot, gliding on the updrafts above his wings. Her expression was sombre, but not unhappy, as she watched the fields of her past home fall away below them.

“Love?” Prime prompted Scree’s attention to meander back to him. The smile on her face was sad, and he mirrored it easily with sympathy for all that his mate had lost. The emotions, he was assured by her flight, were heavier in his charge’s heart than his own; they lagged her wing beats and dragged her pace with a growing tiredness. Gently, the Guardian drifted upwards, his back offered up as a chariot to the Mirror flying above him. Her claws were light against his thickly-plated back as she landed.

Prime adjusted his flying to favour his mate’s comfort with well-practised ease as the smaller dragon wandered along his spine to settle on his shoulder blades. The weight of her, warm and secure between his wings, was an endless well of comfort for him.

“Thank you.” Scree sighed, releasing the built tension from her body with the escaping breath, while the last of her emotional excitement fled in the passing wind, leaving in its place an exhausted and pervading numbness that she gladly welcomed in place of the hurt and anger.

“Rest.” Was Prime’s only response, made powerful by his concern. Scree was not one to argue this time, and set her head down on her mate’s warm scales, over a spot she knew to carry a particularly powerful pulse, so that the thrumming of his heartbeat could be her lullaby while her giant mate carried them home.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> (PS: If you want to find me on FR, I'm Allstohel, #348060. I'm also on tumblr under the same name.)


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